


Anatomy Lessons

by Mijan



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Drunk Sex, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-23
Updated: 2012-01-23
Packaged: 2017-10-30 01:07:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/326075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mijan/pseuds/Mijan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a Friday night after a long week. Thus, the boys have been drinking, and Jim's silliness leads to an impromptu human osteology lesson. It's all about the bones.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anatomy Lessons

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Уроки анатомии](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11960640) by [Fandom_Medic_2017](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fandom_Medic_2017/pseuds/Fandom_Medic_2017), [Takihara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Takihara/pseuds/Takihara)



> Sadly, I wasn't drunk. But I was being silly, and somehow a conversation between myself and my Trophy Wife (who works in the medical field and knows the human skeleton in perfect detail) devolved into... silliness. Then I said I wanted cookies. And she said she'd bake cookies for me if I turned our silliness into a Jim/Bones comment fic. Had to be less than 1000 words. This is the result. :D
> 
> Also... Mmmmm cookies.

  
“Jim, you're drunk.” Leonard didn't _need_ to make that observation aloud, but he was just relaxed enough off his own bourbon that the statement alone seemed amusing.

Jim, whose head was flopped back against the sofa cushions, seemed likewise amused. “Yup.” He grinned and lifted his head up. “Friday night, Bones,” he slurred. “Long fucking week. Got an A on the report for Archer's seminar. I earned the drink.” He cocked his head then proffered a sloppy grin. “And the second.” Then he set his empty glass on Leonard's coffee table. “And the third.”

“Delinquent.”

“Responsti... respondsi... responsible delinquent. I finished the paper first.”

“Good grief, Jim, you can't even talk. I ought to check your damned blood alcohol content.”

“Don't you dare.” Jim tried for a stern look as he leaned towards Leonard, but he overshot, overbalanced, and flopped sideways onto Leonard's lap.

“Dammit, kid!” Leonard rolled his eyes and quickly knocked back the rest of his bourbon before Jim could make him spill it, then set the glass aside. “I'm glad you're relaxed, but you're a heavy bastard, so if you would kindly --”

“Bones,” Jim drawled. “Bones... Bones, Bones, Bones.”

“Jim.” He scowled at the kid. No way was Leonard going to let on how amused he was.

“Boooooooones.” He knocked lightly against Leonard's knee. “Bones' bones.”

“Shit, Jim, you really are wasted.”

For some reason, this seemed beyond funny to Jim, who suddenly, clumsily swung himself around, leaning his weight against Leonard, nudging Leonard's foot with his own. “Bones' bones. Foot bone connected to the leg bone.”

Leonard was utterly unable to keep the incredulity off his face. “Wha-what?” he sputtered.

This seemed to amuse Jim even more, and his tone became oddly singsong. “Leg bone connected to the knee bone.” He tapped lightly on Leonard's knee.

“Knee bone? Jim, what the fuck?” Leonard reached over and rapped his knuckles against Jim's knee a bit less gently. “Patella, not _knee bone_ , you idiot.”

“Patella bone connected to the thigh bone.” Suddenly, Jim ran his hand up Leonard's thigh.

For his part, Leonard nearly choked, removed Jim's hand from his leg, then slapped his own hand on Jim's thigh. “Femur, Jim. It's called a goddamned femur.”

Jim just grinned more broadly and ran his hand higher. “Goddamned femur bone connected to the...” Then suddenly, he made a grab for Leonard's ass. “Butt bone!”

Leonard grabbed his hand and, with a pointed glare, pushed it back. “For your information, Jim, there is no such thing as a butt bone. If anything, you're talking about the coccyx, and there are several bones between the coccyx and the femur. The sacrum, the bones of the pelvic girdle, including the --”

Jim made another grab, this time hitting a bony point below Leonard's actual hip. “Femur bone connected to the...”

“Oh for the love of...” He sighed. “Greater trochanter of the femur, Jim. It's the same bone.”

“Greater tro-trochanz-trochanter of the femur bone connected to the --”

“How did I get stuck with the biggest degenerate in Starfleet as a drinking bud – _fuck, Jim!_ ” Jim's hand had found its way into much more sensitive territory, and Leonard shoved his hand away before reaching over and pressing into Jim's hip. “Iliac crest, you goddamned brat. Take an anatomy course!”

Jim, for his part, giggled. In fact, he giggled hard enough that he practically convulsed. “Why would I do that, Bones? I've got you! Where were... oh yeah... ilio... iliac crest... bone... connected to the -”

Feeling suddenly devious, Leonard leaned his hand into the point where Jim's leg met his groin. “Iliopubic eminence of the pelvis,” he growled.

Jim yelped. He fucking yelped, still giggling madly, and too damned drunk to get away. “Iliopublic reminisce... eminent... eminence of the pelvis... bone connected to the --” He made a feeble attempt to reach for Leonard's groin.

Leonard slapped Jim's hand away before he could poke anything else, swiftly decided that he was already in over his head, and reached straight between Jim's legs. “Ischiopubic ramus, halfwit.”

Jim made an obscene noise like a hybrid of a giggle, a moan, and the sound of a Ferengi screaming. Gasping for air, he squirmed as he choked out the words, “Ish... ischio... pubic ram... ramus.. bone... connected to the --”

“Pubic symphysis.” Leonard pressed right into the middle of Jim's pubic bone, feeling a flush of triumph at the sudden glazed look on Jim's already-delirious features.

“Pu... pubic... synthe... synthesis... bone...” He was panting, pupils dilated.

“Symphysis, Jim. Not synthesis. And it's not a bone. It's a cartilaginous band.”

Jim licked his lips. “Not a bone, eh?” he gasped.

Leonard shook his head.

“Cheater.” At that, Jim suddenly reached down and grabbed Leonard's hand and pulled it firmly over his now _very_ interested cock. “Pubic symphysis bone connected to the _Jim bone_.” His drunken glaze suddenly congealed into something devious. “And Bones? I took anatomy. And I'm not _that_ drunk.”

Leonard only had a second to realize what Jim had done before he'd been pulled down on top of a very satisfied (and only moderately drunk) Jim Kirk.

The goddamned brat.


End file.
